Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat?
by TOloveIStoDESTROY-Jace
Summary: Remus Lupin gets all seven books of Harry Potter's life from a TRL. How does everyone react to a certain Boy-Who-Lived's Not-So-Pleasant life? The title is not supposed to make sense.
1. Remus

**A/N: I don't own anything. J.K. Rowling does. I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas I am just a really big fan.**

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Remus Lupin was sitting in his living room, having a cup of tea when a loud boom came from his doorstep. Curious to the sound, Lupin put down his cup, pulled out his wand, and opened the door. On the doorstep was a box with a note on top addressed to him. Picking up the note it read:

_Dear Remus Lupin,_

_ I have given you all seven books of Harry Potter's life. I hope after you read these things will change for the better. I have included a list of who should be present for the readings._

_Dearest Regards,_

_TRL_

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Nymphadora Tonks

Molly Weasley

Arthur Weasley

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Albus Dumbledore

Minerva McGonagall

Severus Snape

Madam Pomfery

Kingsley Shaklebolt

Neville Longbottom

Luna Lovegood

Lupin opened the box and saw seven books all with Harry Potter as the title. Picking up the box, Lupin apperated to Grimmauld Place to show Sirius Black.


	2. The Boy Who Lived

I do not own anything. I am just a huge fan. I'm sorry that this is taking such a long time to update. School just started a few weeks ago and I'm still trying to get used to my schedule and all the homework that keeps adding up. And on top of that I just came out to all of my family so I'm in the middle of dealing with that. I should be able to update a lot sooner. I plan to have an update every week, but I know that is not going to happen. It will either be every week or every other week, hopefully.

_**This is set in Harry's fifth year. I know that Cedric is on the list and I am trying to change that, but until I do I want everyone to understand this is fifth year.**_

Once Lupin got Sirius caught up, they sent an Owl to Dumbledore with a list of who needs to be at the reading. Not ten minutes later everyone was seated and ready to hear why he or she were called to Grimmauld Place. Lupin stood up and coughed, "As you all know, I asked Dumbledore to bring you all here. I got a package today with a list telling me who needs to be here. It's seven books and they are about Harry's life during Howarts." Harry paled and looked down at his lap. _Oh no. No, this cannot be happening. They are going to find out about the Dursleys and the Cupboard. Fucking Hell._ Nobody seemed to notice the turmoil Harry was going through.

"I suggest we take turns reading the chapters so that nobody gets tired." Dumbledore said, "I will read first."

"**The Boy Who Lived**

**Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.**

"You are very welcome," said Fred.

They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

"Sounds boring," Ginny commented.

"Oh, you have no idea," replied Harry.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.

"Seriously?" asked George.

The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

Harry snorted and Ginny cringed.

"Pleasant," said Hermione.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.

"Secrets, secrets are no fun. Unless you tell everyone," cried Fred and George.

They didn't think they could bear it if anyone fount out about the Potters.

Sirius growled and Remus clenched his teeth.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dudley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dudley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.

_God that Petunia has not changed at all. Always looking her nose down at us, she was the freak. _Snape thought. Sirius had to be restrained by Remus before he apperated to Petunia's house and had a go at her.

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.

"Well it's not like they would wear cloaks. Lily and James were not dumb," Sirius commented. Mrs. Weasley looked uncomfortable at hearing him speak. Ron rolled his eyes at his mom.

The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

"There is nothing wrong with the Potters," Hermione exclaimed.

"Thank you, but this is the Dursleys were talking about," Harry replied. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

**When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work-**

Mr. Weasley shook his head as everyone else looked disgusted.

**-And Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.**

**None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.**

"CONSTANT VIGULANCE!" cried Mad-Eye and everyone jumped.

**At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. **

"He is promoting that type of behavior?!" McGonagall exclaimed.

**He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

**It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. **

Everyone looked at McGonagall. She refused to make eye contact with anyone.

**For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. **

"Oh, yeah just a trick of the light" said Fred and George.

**Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, **_**looking**_** at the sign; cats couldn't read maps **_**or**_** signs. **

"Unless you are Professor McGonagall," Ginny whispered to Harry. Harry looked at Ginny and winked.

**Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.**

Everyone looked on in disbelief.

**But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. **

"What's wrong with cloaks?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Muggles don't wear cloaks. It's very old fashioned," Hermione responded.

Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny cloaks – the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitingly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something . . . yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

"Such a one track mind," said Harry.

**Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. **

"That's stupid," commented Tonks.

**If he hadn't, he might he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. **_**He**_** didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. **

"STATUE OF SECRECY!" Hollered Mrs. Weasley. Everyone jumped.

**Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. **

"He likes to shout doesn't he?" Asked Bill. Harry nodded enthusiastically.

**He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he would stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.**

"Typical him. Can't even walk across the street without there being something in it for him," Harry said disgustedly.

Sirius and Remus shot him a confused look.

**He'd forgotten all about the people in the cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

"Obese much?" asked Neville.

Luna snorted and Harry laughed.

"By this rate we will never finish this book." Madam Pomfery exclaimed.

"Sorry," chorused Harry, Luna, and Neville.

"**The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard—"**

"—**yes, their son, Harry—"**

Remus and Sirius looked sad and bowed their heads; they now knew what day it was in the book.

**Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.**

"Coward," hissed Ron.

**He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking . . . no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. **

"Actually there is only one Harry Potter in the Wizarding World and in the Muggle one," commented Cedric. Everyone looked at him. He shrugged, "I was curious."

**Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew **_**was**_** called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. **

"Ewe, Harold Potter or Harvey Potter. That is disgusting," Ginny shivered.

"They didn't know your name?" Sirius yelled.

"Still don't think they know my name," snapped Harry. Remus looked sharply at him and pulled Sirius back into his seat. Harry looked down at his lap.

**There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if **_**he'd**_** had a sister like that**

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THE POTTERS!" McGonagall, Madam Pomfery, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Neville, and Luna screamed. Harry looked up and blushed.

**. . . but all the same, those people in cloaks . . .**

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills hat afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock; he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.**

"Surprised that person didn't die," Ron joked, having met Harry's Uncle before. Mrs. Weasley smacked the back of Ron's head.

"**Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. **

"Holy crap! He knows that word?" Harry looked at Ron wide-eyed.

**It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"**

"That sounded like Filius," McGonagall said.

**And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.**

"I'm surprised his arms fit around the man," Hermione said nonchalantly. Fred looked at George and asked, "Hermione, did you just make a joke?" Everyone looked at Hermione as she blushed and stuck her tongue out at the twins.

**Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.**

"What kind of boring life is that?" George asked Fred.

"I don't know dearest brother of mine," Fred answered.

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. **

Everyone looked at McGonagall again.

"**Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.**

Harry, Ron, Hermione laughed having pictured that happening.

**The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. **

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Sirius, and Remus shivered having been at the receiving end of that look.

**Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.**

Charlie made a whipping sound and Mr. Weasley snorted.

**Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!").**

"Despicable," Luna said with so much malice that it shocked everyone at the table.

**Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:**

"**And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. **

"Oh, he knows what is going on," whispered Tonks to Remus.

"**Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"**

"**Well, Ted,"**

"I was right, that's my dad and Uncle Jim. He always has the coolest presents at Christmas," declared Tonks.

**-said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."**

"Wait if your dad is a wizard, why is he a weatherman?" asked Ginny.

"Wizards need someone to change the reports some so that Muggles do not find out about us. So my dad will alert the Ministry if something suspicious comes up and they will tell him what to report instead. Everyone that works with my dad is in on it," remarked Tonks.

**Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters . . . **

"He is starting to figure it out," stated Kingsley.

**Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"**

**As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretend she didn't have a sister.**

"If I were Lily I would pretend like I didn't have a sister as well, the way she acts," admitted Mrs. Weasley.

"**No," she said sharply. "Why?"**

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls . . . shooting stars . . . and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today . . ."

"_**So?**_**" snapped Mrs. Dursley.**

"**Well, I just thought . . . maybe . . . it was something to do with . . . you know . . . **_**her**_** crowd."**

"Does that mean were like a gang? Because that would be _so _cool," wondered Siris aloud. Everyone turned to him. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes," Harry answered. Siris nodded and made a hand gesture to Dumbledore to continue reading.

**Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"**

"**I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.**

"**What is his name again? Howard, isn't it?"**

"**Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

"Well, it's a good thing nobody asked you," remarked Remus.

"**Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."**

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.**

"It was Dumbledore wasn't it?" Luna asked. McGonagall looked shocked.

**Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did . . . if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it.**

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters **_**were**_** involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind . . . He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on – he yawned and turned over – it couldn't affect **_**them**_** . . . **

"I wish," Harry muttered under his breath. Remus heard and gave Harry a questioning look. Harry did not see it.

**How very wrong he was.**

**Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no signs of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.**

"Professor, that is kind of creepy," Hermione announced.

**A man appeared in the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.**

**Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. **

Fred and George looked at Dumbledore.

**He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-healed, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. **

"I did, I just did not care," Dumbledore remarked. Hagrid chuckled.

**He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did deem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."**

**He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.**

"That is _so_ cool," stated Fred and George.

"Why thank you, it was one of my more brilliant ideas," Dumbledore remarked.

**He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

"Dumbledore always knows," stated Charlie.

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.**

"**How did you know it was me?" she asked.**

"**My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."**

**You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall al day," said Professor McGonagall.**

"**All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."**

Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill looked scandalous at McGonagall.

**Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.**

"**Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars . . . Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."**

"He is rather flamboyant," Harry declared.

"**You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."**

"Is that really how long it took?" asked Neville. Remus nodded his head.

"**I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."**

**She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really **_**has**_** gone, Dumbledore?"**

"**It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"**

"**A **_**what?**_**"**

"**A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."**

"**No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who **_**has**_** gone – "**

"**My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his name: **_**Voldemort**_**." **

The Weasleys, Neville, and Hermione flinched.

**Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."**

"**I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know-Who- oh, alright, **_**Voldemort**_**, was frightened of."**

"**You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."**

"**Only because you're too – well – **_**noble**_** to use them."**

Hermione nodded her head enthusiastically.

"**It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfery told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

"Um, that's a little too much information, Headmaster," Charlie mumbled.

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The Owls are nothing next to the **_**rumors**_** that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"**

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had se fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon droop and did not answer.**

"**What they're **_**saying**_**," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hallow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – **_**dead.**_**"**

Everyone bowed his or her heads in silence.

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.**

"**Lily and James . . . I can't believe it . . . I didn't want to believe it . . . Oh, Albus . . ."**

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her shoulder. "I know . . . I know . . ." he said heavily.**

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."**

**Dumbledore nodded glumly.**

"**It's – it's **_**true?**_**" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done . . . all the people he's killed . . . he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding . . . of all the things to stop him . . . but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"**

"**We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."**

"Dumbledore always knows," mimicked Harry and Ron.

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"**

"**Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me **_**why**_** you're here, of all places?"**

"**I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."**

"**You don't mean – you **_**can't**_** mean the people who live **_**here?**_**" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"**

"I wish you would have listened to her, Headmaster," Harry said. Remus and Sirius looked at each other and vowed to pull Harry aside soon and talk to him about his comments.

"**It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."**

"**A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known a Harry Potter day in the future – there will be books written about Harry – every child in out world will know his name!"**

"There is not a Harry Potter day, is there?" Harry looked frightened.

"No, not that I know of," stated McGonagall.

"**Exactly, said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"**

**Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.**

"**Hagrid's bringing him."**

"**You think it – **_**wise**_** – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"**

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," proclaimed Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"**I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.**

"**I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?"**

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

**If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so **_**wild**_** – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

"**Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"**

"**Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."**

"**No problems, were there?"**

"**No sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."**

The girls all cooed. Harry blushed, sliding down in his seat to be invisible.

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

"**Is that where –?" whispered Professor McGonagall.**

"**Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."**

"**Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"**

"**Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."**

"Wish he did do something about it," Harry told Ron.

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's house.**

"**Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very, scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

"**Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"**

"**S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles—"**

"**Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light the usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to do the same thing now.

"**Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."**

"**Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."**

**Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked to engine into life; with a roar into the air and off into the night.**

"**I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.**

**Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.**

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

**A breeze ruffled the near hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken up in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley . . . He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!"**

Nobody said anything for a few moments. "Who wants to read next?" Dumbledore asked in a quiet voice. Tonks held her hand out for the book.


End file.
